Eighteen years, that tragically poetic milestone. You are supposed to have achieved so much, and yet yet so little. You are supposed to have lived, and at the same time be just beginning to be alive.
In my eighteen years I have lived. I can say that with all honesty and truth, I have thrown myself wholeheartedly into the art of the human experience.
I went from crawling to dancing and scribbling to a novel.
Everyday I learn a little more about who I am, who I was and most importantly who I want to become.